The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A TaleCooper, James Fenimore
General
The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A Tale
Cooper, James Fenimore
Sea stories
“We’ll find the means to get the pipe out of his mouth,” said the
other, looking askance at the black, as if to express more than he
uttered. “Romance and pretty girls play the deuce with our philosophy,
in youth, as thou knowest by experience, old Cupid.”
“I no good for any t’ing, dat-a-way, now, not’ing,” calmly returned the
black. “I see a one time, when few color’ man in York hab more respect
among a fair sec’, but dat a great while gone by. Now, de modder of
your Euclid, Masser Al’erman, war’ a pretty woman, do’ she hab but poor
conduc’. Den a war’ young heself, and I use to visit at de Al’erman’s
fadder’s; afore a English come, and when ole Patroon war’ a young man.
Golly! I great affection for Euclid, do’ a young dog nebber come a near
me!”
“He’s a blackguard! My back is no sooner turned, than the rascal’s atop
of one of his master’s geldings.”
“He’m werry young, master My’nert: no one get a wis’om fore a gray
hair.”
He’s forty every minute, and the rogue gets impudence with his years.
Age is a reverend and respectable condition, when it brings gravity and
thought; but, if a young fool be tiresome, an old fool is contemptible.
I’ll warrant me, you never were so thoughtless, or so heartless, Cupid,
as to ride an overworked beast, at night!”
“Well, I get pretty ole, Masser Myn’ert an’ I forget all he do when a
young man. But here be ’e Patroon, who know how to tell ’e Al’erman
such t’ing better than a poor color’ slave.”
“A fair rising and a lucky day to you, Patroon!” cried the Alderman,
saluting a large, slow-moving, gentlemanly-looking young man of
five-and-twenty, who advanced, with the gravity of one of twice that
number of years, from the interior of the house, towards its outer door
“The winds are bespoken, and here is as fine a day as ever shone out of
a clear sky, whether it came from the pure atmosphere of Holland, or of
old England itself. Colonies and patronage! If the people on the other
side of the ocean had more faith in mother Nature, and less opinion of
themselves, they would find it very tolerable breathing in the
plantations. But the conceited rogues are like the man who blew the
bellows, and fancied he made the music; and there is never a hobbling
imp of them all, but he believes he is straighter and sounder, than the
best in the colonies. Here is our bay, now, as smooth as if it were
shut in with twenty dykes, and the voyage will be as safe as if it were
made on a canal.”
“Dat werry well, if a do it,” grumbled Cupid, who busied himself
affectionately about the person of his master. “I think it alway better
to travel on ’e land, when a gentle’um own so much as Masser Oloff. Der
war’ ’e time a ferry-boat go down, wid crowd of people; and nobody
ebber come up again to say how he feel.”
“Here is some mistake!” interrupted the Alderman, throwing an uneasy
glance at his young friend. “I count four-and-fifty years, and remember
no such calamity.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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